


His Type

by drelfina



Series: James Bond can pick anyone up anywhere [1]
Category: Casino Royale (2006), James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Cross-overs, M/M, Multi, One Shot, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drelfina/pseuds/drelfina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q didn't feel numb.</p><p>* </p><p>Q discovers that he and the old M's ex-assistant have something in common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Type

Q didn't feel numb.

Of course not.

There was nothing to feel numb about, watching Agent 007 rut a blond in some foreign bathroom stall. It wasn't even new - no one would be particularly surprised by the man fucking someone at all - if you said that he WASN"T, then that was the surprising thing. The only thing that would stop Agent 007 from fucking anyone, so the rumour went, was taking an injury to the groin, and even then that was only a 50-50 chance.

MI6, everyone, finest example of Her Majesty's Intelligence Service.

But in this case, it wasn't on a mission. 007 had finished, and was on his way home. And instead of taking the next flight back, he'd delayed 24 hours and gone down to New York to find this man. This, specific blond man,and was now screwing him into the Sheraton's bath.

Q had muted the sound a long time ago, because he wasn't that masochistic, but apparently he hated himself enough to keep watching through security cams that James himself had planted in the room for security's sake.

It meant that he knew that Q was watching.

See, he was saying, look at me fuck him. Come specially to NYC to find HIM and I'm screwing HIM making him cry out MY name.

Him.

Not Q.

Q already had a facial recognition programme on his computers running, turning up name after name in descending order of probablity. It was the same face he'd fucked before, on a stopover in Singapore. A chance encounter. Very common for 007.

 _James_ the man mouthed , and Q could imagine the voice, sharp and high and keening, as 007 ground his hips in, hard. Perfectly placed against the wall - oh now 007 was hauling the man up, against the counter and now Q had a perfect view of the man's groin, how 007 folded him up and fucked into him, the angle perfect enough his cock was spitting pre-come and he was fisting himself, taut as a - hah - bow string.

"He's up to his old tricks then, I see," a voice said, quiet and mild, behind him.

Q stiffened, and reached for his keyboard to shut down surveillance.

"Don't shut it on my account, I want to see what is his latest, ah. Hawkeye, is it?"

The man came up behind him, whisper quiet. it might almost be agent quiet, but Agents were absolutely silent, even in heels.

So many times 007 had come into his office, silent as breath, and -

Q exhaled.

"So that's his type," Villiers said, and Q shot him a look. Villiers, the old M's assistant, now a branch assisstant-Head in Hong Kong - all the shit work, and very little visibility. It was both a promotion, and an exile. Would have been fairly typical of a change over in management, if it hadn't happened two years after the Vesper Lynd incident. It could have been just a promotion.

"His type." Q said, because it seemed like an answer was required.

Villiers turned to give him what might be a wry grin.

"For a while, years ago," Villiers said, "I thought his type might have been, well. Slender, darkhaired. Tall."

"Vesper," Q said.

"At first, I thought it was Vesper," Villiers said. "And then afterwards, I thought it was just that Vesper was his type."

In the clear light of the screen, Q realised that Villiers was tall too. Just over Q's height, dark haired, slender and undeniably intelligent.

Like Q.

Like Vesper.

Villiers' smile went a little crooked, a bitter touch, and turned back to the screen, where the blond Hawkeye was arching, and coming in high-definition.

"Except maybe that is only for women, I suppose."

Suddenly Q wondered, if two years after Vesper Lynd, all those years ago, that hadn't been a promotion, but a scandal.

something to be swept away, under the rug. Some _one_.

Q was Quartermaster, he couldn't be swept away and promoted out of sight. There was nowhere else to go.

007 and the man were kissing now, slow, wet.

Passionate.

Q felt his heart seize.

"I really wouldn't have thought that was his type at all," Villiers said, quietly, and then reached over to the keyboard, and shunt the feed to a smaller feed, leaving the large screen dark.

They were silent, for a long moment.

"I have a bordeaux in my hotel room," Villiers said. "And my flight isn't till tomorrow afternoon. Knowing the work-" he tipped his chin, "I doubt you have had dinner."

Q stared at him, the way his dark eyes had been cast into shadow, and knew that Villiers could read him. So very easily. It wasn't exactly a good thought, but it wasn't something that surprised him either.

"I like red wine," he said. "I'll pay for dinner."

Villiers tipped his head, and waited for him to close up the office.

Agent 007 could play his love charade to the emptiness of MI6 for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Q has a shit love life. 
> 
> Might post the James/Clint first meeting.


End file.
